<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Escaping Eden (Aziraphale's POV) by HollyHeart</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650347">Escaping Eden (Aziraphale's POV)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyHeart/pseuds/HollyHeart'>HollyHeart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Escaping Eden [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Acephobia, Agender Aziraphale (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - Human, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexuality Spectrum, Conversion Therapy Camp, Fat Shaming, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexuality Crisis, Teen Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:28:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyHeart/pseuds/HollyHeart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Aziraphale's parents send him to "East of Eden: Behavioral Correction Summer Program" to "cure" him of his homosexual tenancies, he gains a very unlikely friend in the rebellious Crowley, as well as some interesting new perspectives on life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Escaping Eden [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Welcome to Eden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning: This fic takes place in a conversion therapy camp if the idea of that is unsettling to you please be wary. Despite heavy topics I tried to keep my writing mild in tone.</p>
<p>If you feel I am missing any warnings in the tags do not hesitate to contact me!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“East of Eden: Behavioral Correction Summer Program?” I look up from the pamphlet my parents had given me. “But why?” I looked at them with uncertain eyes and almost trembling lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve seen a spike in certain behaviors…” My father spoke awkwardly, clearly trying to step around the subject. Sadly I started to understand where this conversation was going and why we were having it. I was always pretty far from a traditionally masculine boy. I’d been called dozens of synonyms for gay since middle school, but I never saw that as an issue. I honestly didn’t know my parents saw anything wrong with me either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this about Oscar Wilde?” I asked apprehensively with an awkward smile, a bit too nervous to face this “problem” head on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, kind of… Not exactly…” My father continued jammering on, seemingly as nervous about this conversation as I was. “There is nothing wrong about wanting to read the classics!” My father defensively assured me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No Azi, it’s about more than that!” my mother chimed in, sounding slightly annoyed. “You’re a year away from graduation, and if you don’t fix yourself into a more </span>
  <em>
    <span>proper</span>
  </em>
  <span> man before college, who knows how you'll be tempted?” I could sense the worry in her tone, which simply confused me further. While I knew I wasn’t a manly man, I never thought of myself as an improper one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tempted?” I was taken aback; even if I had the odd thought or two about men crossing my mind, I never acted on anything. In fact, my desires never seemed to go much beyond kissing. Regardless, I was kind and respectful to others, mild mannered, well educated, and a frequent church goer. I thought that those characteristics certainly more than made up for anything that could be seen as a sexual failure on my part.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re just trying to keep you on the path of God's plan, son!” My father patted my shoulder.  I must admit that framing clarified this situation to me, if only in part. This was not about who I was, but how it could affect my relationship with God. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just for the Summer, Azi, then it will all go back to normal. In fact,it will go back to better than normal!” Mom’s smile was bright, her eyes were kind; they must’ve really thought what they were doing was best for me. </span>
</p>
<p><span><br/></span> <span>“I’ll do my best.” I sighed slightly and tried to give my most convincing smile.</span><span></span><br/><br/></p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you sweetie,” she said sweetly before giving me a hug. “Now go start packing up, Azi dear, we’ll have dinner soon.” I nodded and then headed up to my room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as I got there I closed the door and slid down on the floor. I stared up at the ceiling, unsure of how to proceed. I knew I should start packing but there was so much to take in. I could feel myself starting to break down. I knew I wasn’t normal by any means, but I didn’t realize my eccentricities had gotten so burdensome. I took a few moments to myself, allowing tears to flow. I was just trying to let these nerves pass, trying to work up the gall to put this venture in motion. But I knew doing so would make it far too real. Despite my hangups I somehow managed it; I found myself able to place a few comforting books in my luggage. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the week went by both far too slowly and all too quickly. While my daily life hadn’t changed much, my thoughts were filled with dread for the impending experience of this whole camp venture. I kept reminding myself that it wasn’t as if I had any solid plans for the summer (other than reading of course); perhaps this could be a good chance to broaden my horizons, so to speak. And if there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> something wrong with me, I should do my best to fix such behaviors. This was going to be a good thing in the end; at least, I kept telling myself that… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The morning before camp started, it almost felt as if it would all be okay. My mother made a rather large and sumptuous breakfast. The scent of the kitchen was heavenly; the air was kissed with my favorite earl grey tea. The table was dressed with platters of fluffy blueberry pancakes, crisp bacon, and a variety of vibrant prepared fruits. It was a joyous sight, but the feeling didn’t last long. The longer I looked at the beautiful feast, the more it felt like a last hurrah, a calm before the summer storm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Father.”  I sat down quietly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, son! You ready to get a crack on?” My father greeted, putting down his newspaper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose so.”  I smiled softly at him, hiding my unease. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There you are, sweetness, I made a bunch of your favorites!”  She kissed my cheek before proceeding to serve me a plate full of home cooked goodies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mother.” She then sat down and Father led us in saying grace. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of breakfast went rather well; the taste of blueberry pancakes was only heightened by the lovely conversation about the Cherubim Players’ upcoming charity production of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Into The Woods</span>
  </em>
  <span> this Fall. While it wasn’t my favorite Sondhiem musical (That honor would go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sunday in The Park with George</span>
  </em>
  <span>) it was still absolutely splendid and I looked forward to being able to see it when I returned home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After breakfast I grabbed my belongings and we got in the car.  I wasn’t even a mile away from home yet and I missed it dearly. I knew I’d miss my parents, I’d miss my mother’s brilliant cooking, I’d miss feeding ducks in the park, and I’d certainly miss my book collection. I could only bring so many of those books with me, after all.    </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the car ride was fine enough. My parents put on their </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Sound of Music</span>
  </em>
  <span> CD, which was far from my favorite, but it mostly faded into the background of my parent’s conversation. I was happily able to make the hour or so travel time into a reading opportunity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we are, Azi dear,” My mother said as we stopped the car. The area we stopped at was a rather lush looking sprawl of greenery, and in the center of it was a series of rather modern looking buildings. This was far from what I expected. I had hoped that this campsite would be more rustic and charming. Instead it felt almost corporate, and quite cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, goodbye Mom and Dad, I suppose I’ll see you at the end of summer.” I grabbed my assorted bags and exited the car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Azi! We love you very much!” My mother’s voice sounded a touch tearful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do try to make friends while you’re here, son!” My father added before they drove away; leaving me to head to the large building all alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The walk honestly wasn’t bad, but it felt much longer due to my ever pervasive melancholia regarding my whole situation. On my way inside I passed a sign that said “Welcome, Warriors of God”, so that was at least a smidge comforting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When I got inside the lobby I signed in without issue. I was then told by a slim woman named Ms. Uriel (who was presumably one of the counselors) to wait in a fairly large dining hall. Despite all the fellow campers occupying it, it still felt quite empty. This wasn’t an issue; I was used to being left to my own devices. I was a rather awkward individual, and not a particularly interesting brand of such if my classmates had anything to say about it. To top it off, I wasn’t what anyone would call conventionally attractive; I was very pale, a bit on the short side, and as my mother would say, “rotund.” So others found little reason to want to get to know me. I found myself an empty table and pulled out a book.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three chapters into The Odyssey, my attention was pulled away to a small but loud spat between a rather large, bald man who was also probably a counselor (or at least hopefully was) and a boy around my age. He was dressed like a stereotypical rebel type, red partially slicked back hair, dressed in black head to toe (save the gold-ish symbol on his shirt),and despite being indoors, wore sunglasses. To my dismay they seemed to be approaching me.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why Mr. Sandalphon, be careful! You don’t want to get too close. You don’t want to inspire any impure thoughts now, would you?” The boy with the sunglasses antagonized the counselor, a defiant grin plastered on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I tried to ignore the commotion and focus on my novel, but as the thinly veiled venom flowed between them it seemed that wasn’t an option.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you sit here where it’s nice and quiet, and focus on keeping yourself out of trouble? Sound good, Anthony?” His tone invoked more of a threat than a suggestion. The man then gestured to the seat beside me. I bit my lower lip trying to refrain on giving my opinion on the display.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley!” The boy with the sunglasses corrected as he was practically pushed into a seat… Or perhaps he said Crawley? I could have easily misheard in my unnerved state.   </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Crowley,” The large man chided, flashing a wide toothy smile, studded with silver and gold teeth. It was rather unsettling, as if he was also trying to antagonize the redhead. This behavior seemed uncalled for from a fellow camper, but it was outright inappropriate from a counselor. He gave me a softer smile before walking away, presumably to deal with the other campers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that was a warm welcome!” The other boy sneered and turned to me as if expecting a response.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” was all I could manage to say as I stared at them blankly. I was caught off guard to say the least; someone who seemed as if he wouldn't have been out of place as the protagonist in a YA novel was speaking to me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The being shoved in here and such,” He continued, seemingly determined to continue a conversation of sorts. I assumed it was out of boredom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it all is rather off-putting” I gently placed a bookmark in my novel and turned my attention to this new associate. “Crawley, was it?” I asked with a soft smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley,” he corrected with far less bitterness than he had for Mr. Sandalphon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So sorry! Crowley; got it!” I made a note, tapping my temple as if to signify to him my doing so. I then gave a brighter smile, trying to be polite. I assumed that now that he’d vented, the conversation would come to a close and then I’d go back to my book.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you?” He pressed on. He shifted his body to face me, placing his elbow on the table leaning his head into his hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s Aziraphale.” I said with a slight nervous smile as I tried to gauge his reaction through his dark lenses. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your parents are super churchy or something?” Crowley cocked an eyebrow at me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” I motion towards the banner on the wall decorated with the words “Welcome Back to God’s Path” on it. “It’s sort of why I’m here,” I laughed nervously. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair ‘nough.” He shrugged. Just then a familiar and unwelcome face came up to me, seemingly only to make my day worse.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aziraphale! It’s great to see you, sunshine!” Gabriel beamed at me, causing me to retreat inwardly. “You parents told me you’d be joining us this summer.” As he spoke the pit in my stomach began to grow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes well…” I faked a smile and tried to sound pleasant despite having nothing to say.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Sunshine, we’ll kick this thing! Who knows, maybe we’ll even shed some pounds in the process.” He “playfully” poked my stomach with an overly bright smile plastered on his face and then walked away to meet the other participants. The conversation was quick but I desperately wished it ended sooner. I could tell in the periphery that Crowley looked very unamused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that knob?” Crowley gestured at Gabriel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s my cousin.” I smile sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He seems like a real piece of work…” He sneered.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That he certainly is.” Gabriel was the shining star of the family. He was successful, conventionally attractive, a man of God, he volunteered his summers working with wayward teens, but above all he was, as Crowley so perfectly put, a “knob”.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess that explains why you were sent here then,” He said wryly as he slumped onto the table, placing his head atop his folded arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes well… Wait w-what do you mean by that?” I sputtered out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“If their preference is </span><em><span>that,</span></em><span>” He motioned to Gabriel,</span> <span>“Then of course they sent you to a place to scrub you of your ‘you-ness’. That guy has the personality of a health magazine cover.” I covered my mouth, suppressing a chuckle.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I’m following; my parents don’t want me to stop being me, they just want to make sure I stay in line with God’s Ineffable plan!” I try to reassure Crowley with a kind look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ineffable? The fu...” He shook his head as if trying to remove a thought from his brain. “You know… Whatever, it’s fine, Angel Boy.” I was still quite confused, even more so by the nickname he’d just given me. I blushed ever so slightly, unsure if the comment was sarcastic or endearing, a small part of me did hope it was the latter.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Okay, everyone’s here! I guess it’s time for introductions!” Gabriel called everyone over to a set of chairs in front of a podium. He stood behind it, his usual wide smile plastered on his face. Beside him were three other counselors. All four of them wore an off-white sweatshirt with the camp’s logo on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course he’s the head counselor,” Crowley sneered as he slid down in his chair right next to mine.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“ I’m Gabriel and I’d just like to start by congratulating everyone on their first step on the right foot; with enough hard work and determination we will all be walking down God’s path before the end of the summer!” Gabriel beamed in an overly enthusiastic tone as he addressed the campers. There were twenty-seven of us in total, ten girls and seventeen boys. “I’d like to introduce you to my fellow counselors: Ms. Michaels, Ms. Uriel, and Mr. Sandalphon. Our job is to help you guys cope with impure temptations, and make sure you all exit camp a better person than when you started!”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sat there listening intently; as much as I disliked listening to Gabriel speak, I was here for a reason and I wasn’t about to half-ass anything during my time in this program. Crowley on the other hand seemed less motivated, as if none of this applied to him in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll start by passing along our rooming charts and name tags; just look for your names and then find your bunk-buddies!” Ms. Michaels gave the papers out, while Ms. Uriel passed out name tags and markers. When I got my supplies I promptly and neatly wrote my name and applied my name-tag. There, now I was more than ready to meet my cabin associates! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I looked at the rooming chart in total confusion. It wasn’t as if I was forgotten about; my name was right there listed under “Cabin 4”.  Aziraphale Z. Fell, written in plain English. The name next to mine was “Anthony J. Crowley”; which was a not entirely unpleasant surprise. The big problem was the rest of the list; that is to say there was no rest of the list. It was just us, two broken boys, with undesirable inclinations towards other men, all alone...  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There simply must be a mistake!” I looked up at Crowley, still flabbergasted at the proposed arrangements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, seems like you’re stuck with me, Angel.” He sneered. My initial reaction was to take offence; that was, until I realized how my statement must have sounded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, that part isn’t a problem! So sorry! Would you excuse me?” I panickedly, and apologetically explained before shuffling off to talk to Gabriel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took me a little bit to get his attention. He was seemingly too preoccupied with the other counselors to even realize I existed at first. It took a bit of awkward hand waving before he even realized I was right next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Aziraphale?” He seemed annoyed at me even attempting to talk to him without him initiating the conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel, there seems to be a mistake!” I blurted out frantically. His eyebrows raised at the statement, becoming more visually irritated at me by the second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what would that be, Sunshine?” He might have been smiling, but I knew he was angry at the very proposal that he might have made a mistake. His voice was less than amused, and his gaze was harsh.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are only two of us in bunk four.” I piped up with a nervous smile, unsure of how he’d react next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There were an odd number of boys Aziraphale, we couldn’t fit them all into perfect sets,” he said matter of factly, as if this were a normal camp for normal children in this exact situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But are you sure this is safe?” I said in a hushed tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying you don’t trust my decisions, Aziraphale?” He gave me a slightly offended look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, certainly not!” That was a lie… I most certainly didn’t trust Gabriel, but I also disliked being terribly rude to anyone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then are you suggesting that you don’t trust yourself?”  The offended look turned disappointed. I couldn’t stand that steely purple gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not...not exactly what I’m saying” It was certainly part of it but I didn’t want to give Gabriel any more reason to be disappointed in me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then it will be fine, Sunshine! Besides, I doubt someone like Anthony could tempt you.” He nudged my arm and leaned into my ear. “He doesn’t seem your type anyway,” he whispered, his voice tainted with mean spirited snark. My face turned bright red; I wasn’t even sure what he meant by that. I never thought of myself as having much of a type, and even if I did how would he know what it was? “Just remember God is watching and you’ll do fine, Aziraphale.” He gave me a firm pat on the back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so,” I sighed before heading back to find Crowley. This wasn’t hard as he had seemingly taken it upon himself to stay put while I had my conversation. It was rather kind of him to wait; especially when I made myself out to be an utter reprobate to him earlier.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay there, Angel boy?” I once again wasn’t exactly sure how sincere he was being. He had a tone of voice that couldn’t always be easily deciphered if he was being sarcastic or genuine. I decided to just reply genuinely. The worst that would happen is he would laugh at me; which, while not ideal, was at least something I was prepared for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh everything is tickety-boo!” I assured him as I picked up my luggage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tickety-boo? You grow up in a Dickens novel or somethin’?” Crowley jeered. I was caught a touch off guard by the reference; I hadn’t taken him for the type to make a casual literary reference. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Actually, based on its historical usage, it is quite possible that Dickens used it in one of his novels!” I beamed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I was joking, right?” He looked at me, slightly uncertain. My bright smile turned sheepish. I really would have to figure out his verbal patterns if I was going to be living with him for the summer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh! Yes! Of course,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tugged at my sweater vest with my free hand. “Shall we head to our room then? I looked up at him cheerfully, hoping to move on from my social blunder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk to our bunk was rather pleasant, or at least it wasn’t unpleasant. It was mostly Crowley criticizing the building; something about it being bare-bones and needing a few touches to make it feel less like an office building. While I didn’t have much to say on the matter; I didn’t exactly disagree. But frankly it didn’t matter if I got a word in edgewise, I was just happy he was still talking to me after making him think I didn’t want to be in his bunk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what do you think, Angel?” I looked up, a little caught off guard. I thought he was simply complaining to any available ear. I didn’t realize that he was intending this to be a conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, the walls certainly could have done with a bit of artwork. It would have added some much needed character and perhaps a bit of warmth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley nodded in agreement. “Yeah, paintings, maybe a few plants. I mean, it would still look like a bloody office building but at least it would look like a less miserable one.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I replied with an awkward hum and a closed-mouth sheepish smile.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When we arrived at bunk four, I opened the door to reveal a room that didn’t feel much warmer than the rest of the building. It was a darkish grey, somewhat cramped space for two near adults; the color did nothing to even create an illusion of more space. There were two beds on opposing sides, each of which had a drawer in the bed frame meant for us to place our belongings in. One of the beds was next to a rather large shuttered window. There was a small bedside table for each of us, with a white bible placed on top. There was a small room off the side of the bunk that led to a basic latrine (shower, toilet, sink, mirror ect.). The only other additions in the room were a digital clock on the wall, a paper list of rules on the bathroom door, standard issue fire safety equipment, and of course a security camera. This was presumably there to keep us in line; luckily there only appeared to be one in the main room and not that bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well this bloody bites!” Crowley griped as he tossed his bag against the wall and flopped onto one of the beds. I closed the door behind us and took my spot at the bed near the window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t that bad.” I tried to remain optimistic as I started to unpack my things nice and orderly into the large drawer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could this possibly be worse?” He snidely asked. I paused my unpacking. I thoughtfully brought a finger to my lips trying to come up with something reasonable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...The roof could be leaking, or perhaps we could have rude roommates!”  I thought about my schoolmates, and how mortified I would have been to stay with any of them. Crowley on the other hand, while rough, overly cheeky, and seemingly blunt when it came to his assessment of me, at least was courteous enough to talk to me directly and not just about me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, because I’m such a prize roommate!” He said with an embittered laugh. Here I thought I was the one getting things off on a patchy start, but it’d seemed Crowley had thought he’d made just as bad of an impression as I thought I had. At least this meant it wouldn’t be hard to clear things up between us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, you might be a bit crude or boisterous towards the counselors, but you seem rather pleasant to be around to me.” I turned to him, giving him a kindly smile before finishing up my unpacking.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Kay,” he muttered as I heard him shuffle about on the squeaking bed. “That’s cool then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After we were settled into our new rooms we were instructed to make our way to “Activity Room C” where we would partake in our first “gender role re-confirmation” activity. I was fascinated how this would go, but in a way that people are fascinated in how poorly they’ve failed a test, or how turbulent a storm will get.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is going to be a load of horse shit.” Crowley groaned, interrupting my ever intensifying fears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know that!” I held the door open for him and followed close behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was set up with Gabriel and Mr. Sandalphon standing in front of a white board with our fellow campers sitting at numbered tables. I found our table and promptly sat down across from Crowley.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay boys, let’s talk about hobbies! What do you like to do? If we can find the most masculine things you like to do and re-enforce them, we might be able to use that as momentum to become better men!”  The assignment confused me; I didn’t know how exactly this was supposed to dissuade my attractions.  “So let’s build some camaraderie  between us and figure out some hobbies worth encouraging!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All right, tell me about your hobbies, Angel,”  Crowley asked rather dispassionately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s see… I’m rather partial to the theater, Shakespeare especially. I have an immense love of reading, both fiction and nonfiction. I have an adoration for historical fashion. And I’m also a bit of a magic enthusiast! ” I tried to sound as pleasant and thorough as possible, hoping to engage my associate, if only a little bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magic? Know any tricks?” He asked, eyebrow raised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, certainly! Just hold on.” I searched desperately for a coin in my pocket before starting. I waved my hands in a variety of visually interesting ways, in rather quick succession. I tried to distract and dazzle Crowley with my left hand, as my right one traveled to my target: his left ear.  “What’s that behind your ear?” I asked with a bit of a flourish to my voice as I pulled my hand away before producing the coin to him. I foolishly brushed his earlobe in the process; I sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it was in your palm…” His response was less than impressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No it wasn’t! It was in your ear...” I waved the coin in front of his sunglasses. Crowley looked unconvinced.  “Well it was close to it anyway.” I said, putting the coin back in my pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was impressively bad; like I am literally impressed by how bad that was.” He sounded irked by the display. I knew it didn’t go perfect but I doubted it was nearly as irritating as he seemed to convey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re no fun,” I pouted playfully as if I were imitating a disappointed child.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m plenty fun, you’ve just got no sense of misdirection!” He rebuked, his voice rather sassy; perhaps a bit tongue-in-cheek. I took this as a lack of ill-will and decided to continue with the assignment.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, perhaps I’m a bit rusty. What are your hobbies?” I asked, perhaps sounding a bit too eager. I had speculations of what sort of things a “cool kid” like him would enjoy but I was intrigued all the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Music, clubbing, botany… That’s most of it.” Crowley remained unenthused; which was absolutely baffling! How could someone speak so blasé about their passions? Especially when one of them was so unique!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a scientist? That’s incredible!” I beamed at him, hoping my enthusiasm would possibly spark his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, more of a gardener honestly; botany just sounds better.” He explained, as if to shrug off any compliments paid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Well that certainly has its own merits; I for one am not the most flora inclined. That is, unless you count the historical language of flower arrangements,” I carried on, understanding that Crowley simply wasn’t interested in talking about himself much longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure know a lot about historical nonsense,” he replied casually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One can never be too educated about the world we live in!” I interjected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess not?” Crowley conceded, still looking rather irritated to be here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a favorite flower?” I hoped this would better help us find common interests. Crowley thoughtfully wrapped his hand around his chin.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hyacinths.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my, hyacinths are absolutely lovely; it’s so fascinating how each color represents a different concept!” By the look on Crowley’s face I was probably overdoing my enthusiasm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So boys, what have you come up with?” Gabriel swooped in, eager to monitor our progress. I then realized that I had been ignoring the assignment in favor of getting to know Crowley better. I tried to respond but my words got stuck in the back of my throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Aziraphale here is real into history,” Crowley piped up, pulling Gabriel’s attention away from me just long enough to think. “Big war buff, this one.” I simply nodded along, feeling only slightly bad for stretching the truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Crowley is a science enthusiast, has an extensive scientific knowledge of plants and acoustics!” I chimed in, trying to hide the panic in my voice. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a great start guys, good job!” He gave us a thumbs up before wandering off. I waited till he had gotten out of hearing distance before I relaxed a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much for covering for me!”  I sighed in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a big deal; you covered for me as well, you know.” He shrugged and laid his head against his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so,” I smiled, internally stewing; even if it was to help Crowley and not just to save my own skin, I was still unsure how to feel about lying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what were you saying about hyacinths?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested (much to my surprise). I took a breath and stood up straight, composing myself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes, well, each one has its own unique meaning,” I returned to my pre-Gabriel level of enthusiasm. “Do you have a favorite variant?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Red or purple, probably,” he said quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, red hyacinths mean playfulness, while purple ones mean sorrow or a plea for forgiveness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really think flowers have meaning?” Crowley asked, seemingly skeptical, but also a tad amused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As much as anything really. It’s one of the marvelous things about humans, the beauty we see in things and the meanings we ascribe to them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a morning full of “masculinity enhancing” activities it was time for lunch. Gabriel had apparently selected a “special” lunch for me. I was told all I’d have to do is wait in line and that the lady would make sure I got what I needed. When I got to the front, the lady went into the back to grab a tray already filled with food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here you go, love!” the cafeteria worker said sweetly as she handed me the saddest display of food I had seen in awhile. A simple and rather dry looking kale salad, some sort of brownish green juice, and a cup of something that was described as “chia pudding”. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Gabriel ate on a regular basis. No wonder he hated food so much if all his meals were composed of such lifeless components.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” I replied politely, hiding my complete disappointment. I took the rather forlorn looking lunch to a secluded area in the dining hall. I sat down and noticed my new acquaintance standing around with his tray as if he were lost. It wasn’t as if there was a shortage of open seats. Was he looking for me? I decided to wave at him, if he wasn’t actually looking for me I could simply pass it off as being generally friendly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The hell is that?” Crowley asked bluntly as he put down his own tray. He pointed at the cup of milky looking sludge, face tinged with disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some type of health food called ‘chia pudding’.” I explained, almost rolling my eyes as I poked at my bowl of underdressed kale and apples. I took a bite and dreamed of a better salad, something with more depth of flavor. Perhaps one with spinach and a shallot vinaigrette, maybe even grilled chicken! My day dreaming was interrupted by Crowley who was still hung up on my poor impersonation of a dessert. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It looks like someone splooged into a cup of fruit…” His grimace got more exaggerated. I winced at the crude comparison, but at the same time I couldn’t particularly argue with his assessment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t smell very good either,” I replied as I got a good glimpse of what Crowley was eating; it was far from fine dining but it did at least hold some amount of comfortable familiarity. A grilled cheese, tomato soup, carrot and celery sticks, and a very cute little vanilla cupcake.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can have it if you want.” Crowley snaps me out of my food induced daze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” I look up from the tray and direct my attention to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My cake, I see you staring at it,” Crowley offers. My eyes go wide, and I start to blush from embarrassment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I couldn’t.” A slight pang of guilt coursed through me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not much for sweets, it would probably get wasted otherwise.” He held it out to me. “Here, take it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel wouldn’t much like that.” I looked down sadly at my own lunch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck ‘im, why does he have such a restrictive diet for you in particular anyway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your body is a temple!” I say, stiffening up, giving my best Gabriel impression. “And he thinks I’m taking care of mine improperly.” I look down at myself. I suppose Gabriel isn’t completely wrong in that respect; I am a bit overweight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great, if your body’s a temple then here’s an offering!” Crowley interrupts my slight shame spiral, picking up the pastry and placing it on my tray.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are far too kind!” I was so touched. I unwrapped the little cake with pure elation, careful to keep the wrapper intact (lest I get crumbs on my vest). I had to keep myself from bubbling over with appreciation. I suppose it wasn’t a huge gesture, but I couldn’t remember the last time anyone was so casually kind to me; at least not anyone who was around my age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me I’m not, I’m just not a cake person ‘s all,” he insisted rather defensively. All I could do was smile at this display of foolish pride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well thank you.” I took a delicate bite of the tiny cake. It wasn’t much better than any grocery store pastry, but the sweet taste filled my heart with more joy than a thousand chia puddings ever could.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the huge break in between chapters but hopefully I'll post a little more regularly in the upcoming months ^_^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>